Paul Gerhardt's Spiritual Songs Part 21

His Spirit in me dwelleth, And ruleth every pow'r, All pain and sorrow stilleth, Dispels all clouds that low'r.

What He in me implanteth, He blesseth every hour, Help to say "Father" granteth, With every ransom'd pow'r.

When heart with terror breaketh, And weak and worn I feel, Words whispers He and speaketh That are unspeakable; My mouth can frame them never, To G.o.d they are well known, Who what delights Him ever Discovers in His own.

His Spirit mine relieveth With words of comfort blest, Shows how G.o.d succour giveth To all who seek His rest; And how a new and golden Fair city rear'd hath He, Which here from sight withholden, My joyful eyes shall see.

My mansion's there so splendid, Prepar'd in yonder land; Though when my course is ended, I fall--Heav'n still doth stand.

Though care here often saddens And causeth tears to flow, My Jesu's light oft gladdens And sweetens every woe.

Whoe'er to Jesus bindeth Himself, doth Satan hate, He's troubled much and findeth His burden sore and great; To suffer scarce is able, Disgrace and scorn he meets, The cross and every trouble As daily bread he eats.

My mind this clear perceiveth, Yet am I undismay'd; To Thee my heart aye cleaveth, On Thee shall cares be laid.

Though life and limb it cost me And everything I have, Unshaken shall I trust Thee, Thee never shall I leave.

The world may ruin s.h.i.+ver, Thou liv'st eternally, Nor sword nor flame shall ever Divide 'twixt Thee and me.

No thirst nor gnawing hunger, No pain nor poverty, Nor mighty prince's anger Shall ever hinder me.

No angel, nought that gladdens, No throne nor majesty, No love nor aught that saddens, No grief nor misery, Nor aught that man discovers, Be it small or great, From Thee, my heav'nly Lover's Embrace can separate.

My heart with joy is springing, And sad I cannot be, 'Tis full of joy and singing, The suns.h.i.+ne doth it see.

The Sun that looks with pleasure On me is Christ my King; The glory beyond measure That waits me, makes me sing.

A SONG OF CHRISTIAN JOY.

Why should sorrow ever grieve me?

Christ is near, What can here E'er of Him deprive me?

Who can rob me of my heaven That G.o.d's Son, As mine own, To my faith hath given?

Naked was I and unswathed When on earth At my birth My first breath I breathed.

Naked hence shall I betake me, When I go From earth's woe, And my breath forsake me.

Nought--not e'en the life I'm living, Is mine own, G.o.d alone All to me is giving.

Must I then His own restore Him?

Though bereft Of each gift Still shall I adore Him.

Though a heavy cross I'm bearing, And my heart Feels the smart, Shall I be despairing?

G.o.d can help me, who doth send it, He doth know All my woe And how best to end it.

G.o.d oft gives me days of gladness, Shall I grieve If He give Seasons too of sadness?

G.o.d is good, and tempers ever Every hurt, Me desert Wholly can He never,

Though united world and devil, All their pow'r Can no more Do than mock and cavil.

Let derision now employ them, Christ e'en here Will appear And 'fore all destroy them.

True believers shrinking never, Where they dwell Should reveal Their true colours ever.

When approaching death would scare them, Still should they Patient stay And with courage bear them.

Death can never kill us even, But relief From all grief To us then is given.

It doth close life's mournful story, Make a way That we may Pa.s.s to heav'nly glory.

There I'll reap enduring pleasure, After woe Here below Suffer'd in large measure.

Lasting good we find here never, All the earth Deemeth worth Vanisheth for ever.

What is all this life possesseth?

But a hand Fall of sand That the heart distresseth.

n.o.ble gifts that pall me never, Christ so free There gives me To enjoy for ever.

Shepherd! Lord! joy's fountain ever, Thou art mine, I am Thine, No one can us sever.

I am Thine, because Thou gavest Life and blood For my good, By Thy death me savest.

Thou'rt mine, for I love and own Thee, Ne'er shall I, Light of joy, From my heart dethrone Thee.

Let me, let me soon behold Thee Face to face, Thy embrace May it soon enfold me!

CHRISTIAN DEVOTION TO G.o.d'S WILL.

I into G.o.d's own heart and mind My heart and mind deliver, What evil seems, a gain I find, E'en death is life for ever.

I am His son, Who spread the throne Of heaven high above me.

Tho' I bend low Beneath His blow, Yet still His heart doth love me.

He ne'er can prove untrue to me, My Father aye must love me, And tho' He cast me in the sea, He only thus would prove me; In what He good Doth count, He would My heart establish ever.

And if I stand, His mighty hand Will raise me, and deliver.

Vain had my own pow'r ever been, To have adorn'd or made me; In soul and body G.o.d is seen, He form'd and He array'd me, Plac'd mind and wit On the soul's seat, And flesh and bones did give me.

Who thus so free Supplieth me Can ne'er mean to deceive me.

Say, where a place to lay my head, On earth had I attained?

Long since had I been cold and dead Had G.o.d not me sustained With His strong arm, That ever warm, And glad and healthy maketh.

Whom He gives joy May praise employ, What He leaves, falls and breaketh.

Wisdom and understanding true In Him are ever dwelling; Time, place, to leave undone or do, He knoweth, never failing.

He ever knows When joys, when woes, Are best for those He loveth.

What He doth here-- Tho' it appear Ill--to be good aye proveth.

Thou think'st indeed, if thou hast not What flesh and blood is yearning To have, that trial mars thy lot, Thy light to darkness turning.

Of toil and care Thou hast large share, Ere thou thy wish attainest, And dost not see Whatever thee Befals, thereby thou gainest.

In truth, He who created thee, His glory in thee showing, Hath long ago in His decree Determin'd--all foreknowing-- What good for thee And thine will be, In faithfulness he'll give it.

Curb thou thy will, Wait! be thou still, To His good pleasure leave it.

Whate'er to send, seems good to G.o.d, 'Twill be at last refres.h.i.+ng, Altho' thou call'st it cross and load 'Tis fraught with richest blessing.

Wait patiently, His grace to thee He'll speedily discover.

All grief and fear Shall disappear Like mist the hills spread over.

The field, unless the storm rage high, Its ripe fruits yieldeth never, So men were ruin'd utterly If all were prosp'rous ever.

Though health it gives, And thus relieves, The bitter aloe paineth; So must the heart With anguish smart, Ere it to health attaineth.